“The momentous day having arrived, I sent one of them at an early hour to the Hospital, to ascertain the exact time when the police were to start with their prisoners.  Although I merely took this precaution from my excessive anxiety, it turned out to have been a prudent step.  I had formed my plans upon false information, which I had received as to their destination; and believing that it was at Rochelle this unhappy group was to embark, all my trouble would have been thrown away in waiting for them on the Orleans road.  However, I learned, by the soldier’s report, that they would go out towards Rouen, and that it was from Havre-de-Grace they were to sail for America.

“We at once went to the gate of St. Honore, taking care to go by different streets.  We assembled at the end of the faubourg.  Our horses were fresh.  In a little time we observed before us the six archers and the two wretched caravans, which you saw at Passy two years ago.  The sight alone almost deprived me of my strength and senses. `Oh fate!’ said I to myself, `cruel fate! grant me now either death or victory.’

“We hastily consulted as to the mode of making the attack.  The cavalcade was only four hundred paces in advance, and we might intercept them by cutting across a small field, round which the high road led.  The guardsman was for this course, in order to fall suddenly upon them while unprepared.  I approved of the plan, and was the first to spur my horse forward—­but fate once again relentlessly blasted all my hopes.

“The escort, seeing five horsemen riding towards them, inferred that it was for the purpose of attacking them.  They put themselves in a position of defence, preparing their bayonets and guns with an air of resolution.

“This demonstration, which in the guardsman and myself only inspired fresh courage, had a very different effect upon our three cowardly companions.  They stopped simultaneously, and having muttered to each other some words which I could not hear, they turned their horses’ heads, threw the bridles on their necks, and galloped back towards Paris.

“`Good heavens!’ said the guardsman, who appeared as much annoyed as I was by this infamous desertion, `what is to be done? we are but two now.’

“From rage and consternation I had lost all power of speech.  I doubted whether my first revenge should not be in pursuing the cowards who had abandoned me.  I saw them flying, and looked in the other direction at the escort:  if it had been possible to divide myself, I should at once have fallen upon both these objects of my fury; I should have destroyed all at the same moment.

“The guardsman, who saw my irresolution by my wandering gaze, begged of me to hear his advice. `Being but two,’ he said, `it would be madness to attack six men as well armed as ourselves, and who seem determined to receive us firmly.  Let us return to Paris, and endeavour to succeed better in the choice of our comrades.  The police cannot make very rapid progress with two heavy vans; we may overtake them tomorrow without difficulty.’